


Psalm 143:8

by AgentDianeEvans



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: F/M, Religion, sex mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:57:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5275637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentDianeEvans/pseuds/AgentDianeEvans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dale Cooper thinks about Annie in the biblical sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Psalm 143:8

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a little series I'm thinking up. I'm calling it, The Recorded and Unsent tapes of Dale Cooper

Psalm 143:8  
“ Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love,  
for I have put my trust in you.  
Show me the way I should go,  
for to you I entrust my life.”

I think what I loved most was the golden cross around her neck. It laid just above her collar bones. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Sometimes, I look at her after we’ve made love and I have to wonder if I had just went to bed with an angel. The way her golden hair lays around her like a halo, her delicate pale skin, eyes as blue as the skies. There is no way she is anything of this earth. I am not always the most spiritual man, but it is hard to deny the facts in front of me. My Annie is an angel. I have to wonder if she was sent to me by some kind of higher being, maybe not as a gift, but a reminder that there is some divine prophecy for me. That I have hurt enough, and now I get my own guardian angel.

She doesn’t know I see her this way. She knows that I believe she walks on water, but she has no idea that it’s in the biblical sense that I love her. It’s not that she doesn’t think of religion anymore. I know that she still prays every night before bed, before a meal. I’ve learned her this way. And she has learned me the way she learned God. On her knees.

And this is by no means a way to disrespect her or her beliefs, it’s my way of understanding her faith. She’s always telling me she believes in me, has faith in me. Ever since her life has become a-new, I took the place of something Holy. I told her, if she needed me to, I would be her Jesus, her religion, spirit, faith. I even told her I would be Adam, if she felt the need to sin. And she laughed, and it sounded a bit like a choir. But that laugh told me that she understood. I could be her confessional too. I would listen to her tell me everything like a diary, her feelings, emotions, fantasies. Then I would ask her for a few Hail Marys and tell her everything was fine. Then we’d meet again next week. And she would leave me, to sit and repent for the time I spent thinking about her at night when I’m shadowed by the dark, using my hands for more than prayer. For all of the time I took looking at her, watching her mouth form Holy words, watching her eyes shudder close during a prayer. And the way the small golden cross on her neck rises and falls like the Sea of Gallilee every time she takes a breath. And how it swings when she moves above me. And it’s from all of this I know how lucky I am. How blessed.

This morning, I sit here and think about Annie. Then tonight, I get to meet her again under the moonlight and commit one or two of the deadlier sins, and know, that in the end, it will all be forgiven.


End file.
